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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26153470">Love Bites</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction'>gotfanfiction</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and then Two and then Three [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Biting, Blood Kink, Come Eating, Eskel Is A Saint, Feelings, Lambert being Lambert, M/M, Mild breeding kink, Minor Angst, No Beta: I'll Die Like An Idiot, Trans Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher Courting Rituals, Ye Olde Sex Toys, almost a threesome, boys being stupid, jaskier being jaskier, so many feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:20:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26153470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A man stood next to him, a wicked smile on his face, eyes bright with mischief and honest good feeling. It took him a moment to register that the stranger stunk like his brother, musk clinging to the sharper notes of the soaps and oils he used to bathe with.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert/Jaskier - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and then Two and then Three [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trans Characters in The Witcher Universe</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love Bites</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symbolic_Deviant/gifts">Symbolic_Deviant</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's here! Part two has arrived, and so has Lambert. Again, I'm a cis woman, and was asked to write this, and if you aren't comfortable feel free to go back, because I genuinely don't want to upset anyone. I love you all, and the final part should be on it's way soon. Enjoy, and don't forget to drop a comment! I read and respond to every single one &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eskel was more glad than he could say, to be home, to feel safe enough to let the tension loose from his shoulders. He was looking forward to resting at the only place he had ever felt properly welcome, short days and long nights spent with his family, trading stories and drinking themselves stupid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look who finally dragged his sorry ass home,” Lambert jostled his shoulder with his own, smirking, nose twitching. “Someone smells like they’ve been having a good time. What unlucky bastard did you manage to drag into your bed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel rolled his eyes. Lambert seemed to be in a good mood, which was a rare enough thing that he decided to play along, and he clamped a hand on the back of his little brother’s neck. “Jealous? It’s not a good look on you, Lambert. Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole you’d find someone to warm your bed, as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert grinned. “Hey, I’ve got no trouble finding people for a good fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just can’t keep them in bed with you for more than a night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait,” Lambert leaned in, taking a longer breath in through his nose. “Oh, you son of bitch, you went and got yourself romanced, didn’t you? Who is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that was a bit complicated, and Eskel shifted where he stood. Lambert picked up on it immediately, mischief flooding his face. “Did my brother find himself seduced by someone wholly inappropriate? Are you in </span>
  <em>
    <span>love?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last word was said in a terrible falsetto, dragged out and awful. Eskel couldn’t even be annoyed, because he was. He was in love, and with a human, no less. Or he was fairly certain he was. The problem was that while he knew that Jaskier cared about him, he was less sure that that caring could turn into love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskie was understandably wary of full force romance, considering everything that happened with Geralt, and while Eskel is content with what they have now, part of him wishes. He is so disappointed in his brother, so confused, because who could look a gift like the bard in the face and turn him away?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert backed away, sensing the mood shift, looking a bit unsure. “Look, I’m, uh, I’m sorry. Wanna get drunk about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not anything bad,” Eskel smiled as reassuringly as he could, not wanting to make his brother worry. He could barely feel the tug of twisted skin anymore, but he didn’t hold the smile long. “Just a bit complicated, for now at least. But we’re home, now, and I won’t say no to a drink.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eskel.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit. Wasn’t he preoccupied, not even aware that Geralt had arrived, had gotten close enough to get a real good whiff of him. His brother sounded… not hurt, but unsettled. He faced him, the familiar swell of love and relief at the sight of his best friend tangling up with the sour knowledge of his piss poor behavior, the consequences of his choices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geralt,” he nodded, and now Lambert was glancing between them, curious as to why they hadn’t embraced each other, as they usually would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did-” and Geralt faltered here, swallowing hard. “How have you been, brother?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, they wouldn’t be speaking of it, then. Eskel shrugged, stepped up to wrap his arms around his idiot of a brother. “I’ve been well. And you? Has anything of note occured? Any news?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt buried his face into Eskel’s shoulder, no way he didn’t pick up the lingering scent of a familiar person, and he sighed, “No. Nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt a curious sort of grief then, paired with anger, and he was very aware of Lambert, quiet for once, watching and puzzling at the strangeness of it all. “Alright, then. Let’s get something to eat, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel stepped away from Geralt, put a hand on his shoulder, lead him to the kitchen. A warm meal would soften him up, and some ale would relax them all. Lambert started chattering about some trouble he’d run into, knowing that this time, he should hold his tongue about whatever it was that was going on. Eskel was grateful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, when they had eaten their fill, drunk until the world had taken on a curious haze, Lambert turned and asked, serious in a way he rarely was, “What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel looked back, said, “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier really did enjoy teaching, even if he disliked being trapped in one spot for so long. He held classes outside when he taught in the summer, but it was freezing, what with it being winter, and he wouldn’t risk his or his students' fingers just because he was feeling a little stir crazy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He overcompensated with over the top lectures, prancing around the room like a lunatic, breaking into song, winking at his students to watch them blush and stutter. His classes were always near the top of the list for requests, and his coworkers would shake their heads at him in amusement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seem so young, still,” they would say, and he wouldn’t think of the grey in their hair, the minute trembles in the hands of the people who had taught him, or had learned with him, because surely if he didn’t think about it that meant it wasn’t real. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was very, very good at ignoring his own problems. He would gaze in the mirror every so often, but his eyes still sparkled, his hair stayed thick and brown, and he would let himself worry over it for only a moment, and then distract himself with whatever he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d gotten a letter from Eskel, round midwinter, and it was started with the usual drivel of ‘how are you’ and ‘oh, isn’t it colder than last winter’, but it soon devolved into the kind of erotica that Jaskier would have killed to have written himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a marvel, his man was, a poet on top of everything else. The words were ingrained in his mind, and he thought of them often at inopportune moments; it made teaching a bit awkward for a while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But time slipped by quickly, as it often did, and before he even knew it he was grading the last of the essays, hugging the more enthusiastic of the bunch goodbye, waving off the requests to stay, just for another few months, setting out on the road, anticipation bubbling up in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert was on his best behavior, but the bastards in the tavern were still giving him evil little looks with their stupid, ugly faces screwed up in badly concealed disgust. He wanted to tell them exactly what he thought of them, how little he cared about their opinions, but he had promised to keep his tongue and his knives to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally he wouldn’t have bothered, promise or no promise, but Eskel had reached out to him for help with a problem that would take more than one Witcher, and he had been burning with curiosity ever since the beginning of winter. What the fuck was going on with his brothers? He had never seen them that way with each other, not even when they were pissed as shit and ready to come to blows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needed to fucking know. And Eskel was less likely to feel inclined to answering his questions if he was tired from cleaning up his little brother’s messes. So he sat, and stewed, and waited for his giant lout of a brother to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurry the fuck up and get here already, he’d been waiting for a fucking hour already. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was also the scent, which was all over the place, much the same way it had been all over his brother, but with less come. Not knowing who it was coming from was driving him crazy, and he knew the sniffing was half the reason people were keeping an eye on him, but, again, he didn’t give a shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kept himself from stiffening up by force of will alone when the scent got brighter, louder, cutting through the mass of barely washed people and ground in piss stench that all places like this had. It wouldn’t have caught him so off guard if he wasn’t so focused on it, and he looked up and felt his stomach drop somewhere near his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A man stood next to him, a wicked smile on his face, eyes bright with mischief and honest good feeling. It took him a moment to register that the stranger stunk like his brother, musk clinging to the sharper notes of the soaps and oils he used to bathe with. A normal man would never pick up on it, but Lambert wasn’t a normal man, he was damn Witcher, and a fucking adult, and this stranger smelling like Eskel’s come wasn’t enough to knock him around like this. Figured his brother would have had some fun before he went and picked up a contract he couldn’t handle alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knowing people the way he did, that probably hadn’t been Eskel’s fault. Lambert was going to have to threaten his way into fair pay, because he knew his brother never would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” and that was a very pleasant voice, and the man had a lute strapped to his back, so he was probably a bard. “You are definitely a Witcher.” The man slid into the seat next to his, winking. “I’m rather good at spotting them, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not like we're easy to pick out, huh?" Lambert drummed his fingers on the table, smirked as the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. "Don't stick out like murderous sore thumbs in the slightest." </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>A bard, who smelled so much like Eskel, a </span><em><span>bard</span></em><span> who was good at 'spotting' Witchers, who didn't carry around the acrid stink of fear that most people did when they ran into one of his kind, a bard, just like the one who used to follow Geralt</span> <span>around</span><em><span> all over the entire blasted continent, can't shake the bastard off. </span></em><span>No wonder his brothers had been so tense with each other at first. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bard who grinned at him. "Oh, you lot aren't so bad as all that. I'm Jaskier, bard, scholar, lover, etcetera."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert chuckled, nearly impressed. "I'm a lover and a scholar myself. Don't ask anyone else, though, they'll just lie. Jealousy is a terrible thing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lambert. I see you've made yourself comfortable." Eskel walked up, looking harried. His good mood soured a bit, his brother visibly worn out, and not from a good roll in the hay. "Jaskier, you're still going to that festival, aren't you? I know you like to see everything for yourself, but it would keep me from worrying too much if you stayed where it's safe."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier huffed. "I told them I would perform, didn't I? Don't worry so much, it'll give you wrinkles. Is it safe to assume that my new friend here is the Witcher you called to help you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert raised his hardly touched tankard of ale in salute. Eskel smiled and rolled his eyes. "This idiot is my brother, and we need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lambert, before this problem gets worse." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rude, but Lambert was feeling gracious enough to let the comment slide, and Eskel was too busy getting kissed to respond to anything he could come up with anyway. His brother looked dazed when the bard finally released him; Lambert got another wink before Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>sashayed</span>
  </em>
  <span> away, and wasn't Eskel a lucky bastard, damn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert was no longer feeling gracious. He was mostly feeling sticky, and tired, and pissed as fuck. Fuck nekkers, no, fuck everything, actually. He dragged Eskel up, despite the burning in his shoulders. It had been smart of him to call for backup; the sheer amount of those ugly fuckers would easily have overwhelmed him had he been alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I owe you one, Lambert," Eskel was barely on his feet, exhausted, and Lambert was furious at himself for almost not getting to him in time to keep his brother from losing his head. "Might even owe you two, gods. Ask for anything, and it's yours." He didn’t quite hit the jovial tone he was aiming for, but Lambert could appreciate the effort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Damn right you owe me, you slow bastard," Lambert huffed. "What would you ever do without me? I claim the Law of Surprise. Say goodbye to your dinner." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel wrinkled his nose up, but it was practically a joke now, considering their lives, and he nodded. Lambert was hoping to hell and back, actually, that there was a bath waiting for them in their rooms, because he would be getting in the damn thing first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was just his fucking luck, wasn't it? Jaskier was fussing over Eskel, robe tossed on as soon as they'd staggered in the door, whatever seduction he'd been planning tabled for a later date. Lambert tried not look over, focused on removing his armor and pulling off his boots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was dodging Eskel’s heavy gaze, wishing for once that things would go the way he wanted or expected. He smeared salve on the mild gash on his forearm, wrapping it like he was performing surgery and not doing the same shit he'd been doing to himself for years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lambert." He didn't look up. "We need to tell him." Fuck that. Fuck it hard, fuck it sideways, and fuck it right up the ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tell me what? What's gone wrong? Is Lambert hurt?" Jaskier was all of a sudden in front of him, and Lambert wasn't accustomed to feeling guilt, but he was practically stewing in it now. "Lambert, are you hurt? Do you need my help?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier," Eskel stood, and he'd never looked so much like a naughty child, caught doing something he knew shouldn't be. "Lambert saved my head out there. We weren't expecting you back, you see. He probably thought he would just get the first bath."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn't.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You did fucking not." He started laughing. "What is with you Witchers and claiming the Law of Surprise?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert cringed away. "I just wanted a damn bath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was just a fucking joke! We've done it all our lives. How was I-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sharp look from the bard stopped him before he could really get going. Which was probably for the best. Not much sense in making an already fraught situation more tense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look, we're all adults. Eskel knows I've never expected him to exclusively sleep with me, and he doesn't expect it from myself." Jaskier breathed in deeply, visibly calming his nerves. "Eskel, darling, what do you think we should do?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel cleared his throat. "We did this to ourselves. And all this destiny shit, you can't really mess with it. So it’s on us to take care of it. I don't care, so long as you both go in clear headed." He ducked down to firmly kiss Jaskier, sweet as pie, gods he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> arse over tits. "Don't let him boss you around. And don't worry, the jackassery is a front. Mostly a front." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert's mouth dropped open in outrage. "Has it occured to any of you that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> might not want to bugger your bard?" He got two deeply pitying looks. Well. Color him obvious, then, fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel moved to the lone chair in the room, clamping a heavy hand on his shoulder as he passed Lambert on the way, eyes dark but almost mischievous, the fucker, the smile small but still definitely present. He leaned in, whispered, "Have fun, </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> brother." What a fucking prick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert was a whole host of things, a great many of them unpleasant, but he wasn’t a rapist, and he’d really rather get skewered by his own sword than sleep with someone who didn’t want him to. “Listen, tell me to fuck off, alright, the second something happens that you don’t like. Fuck, just kick my arse out right now if that’s what you really want, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kissing was a good way to shut him up, that was for sure. Jaskier opened his mouth, sucked Lambert’s lower lip between his teeth, bit down just hard enough to hurt but not enough to break the skin, and a bolt of arousal shot down his spine. He grabbed the man’s shoulders, happy he was shirtless already, pushed the robe down. He broke away to watch it slither down to the floor, and Jaskier was so fucking gorgeous, damn, Eskel was luckier than he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wanna eat you out,” Lambert steered them towards the bed, stopping to kick out of his trousers. “Fuck, do you like that? Gonna make you come all over my face, get me all wet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier laughed at him as he splayed his legs open. “Come on and put your money where your mouth is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a fucking terrible joke, Melitele’s tits. Lambert glanced over to Eskel, who looked calm as usual, and he would never admit it, but he was grateful he hadn’t left. He set to work, muscling his shoulders under those long legs, gave himself a moment to breathe in the scents, heavy and thick, and he was dizzy, already. He pushed his tongue in with no warning, just wanting a taste of what he'd smelled on Eskel, and that was him gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier's thighs clamped down around his head, and his ears were ringing, but he squirmed two fingers in to replace his tongue so he could suck at the bard's clit, put the mild discomfort out of his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the man tasted amazing, musky and dark and nearly sweet, no wonder his brother kept going back for more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could've died happy in this moment, but his cock was hard, leaking all over the sheets, and he twisted and flicked his fingers until Jaskier gasped out his orgasm; he broke away, lurching up to kiss the other man, who licked his own come out of Lambert's whiskers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert grabbed at the slim hips, but Jaskier wriggled away, laughing right in his face when he growled in frustration. "Oh, don't make that face, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, I swear.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found himself on his back, Jaskier petting him firmly while biting at his chest, fingernails sharp but not cruel. He was squirming, and he wasn’t ticklish at all, but if he had been he’d imagine it’d feel a little bit like this; a tease and a breath, sighed over scars and pale skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel was fidgeting; Lambert could hear his clothes shifting around, his heart picking up minutely, his breathing steadying out, trying to stay calm. Jaskier had dragged his clever fingers down to his hips, scratching the whole way, gave his cock one little kitten lick, innocently peering up at from under his lashes; he hadn’t noticed his lover proper getting worked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No human would, unless they were looking at him. And it was a rare treat, having that much attention on him, prostitutes normally wanting to get straight to business, and his few flings always distracted by his otherness, by the things that made him more than human. Lambert didn’t know what to do with it, a brief stab of uncertainty flaring up, and he did what he did best in response: he overcompensated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat up and forward, narrowly avoiding smashing their faces together, Jaskier jerking back in surprise as he growled and flipped the bard over. Not that the other man seemed to have any complaints, hips tilting up, arms braced, amused look shot over a shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert was a little in awe that there wasn’t even the slightest bit of fear in his scent, and it was going to his head, and his prick, and when he leaned forward to put his teeth in Jaskier’s neck, pushing his cock in at the same moment, the other man just laughed. He ramped up the growling, but the moans and breathless laughter being smothered by the sheets were the loudest sounds in his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dripping,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lambert could feel drops of it cooling on his thighs, only to be covered by a fresh spurt, his cock gliding in and out of Jaskier’s cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, the sound of it almost unreal, the feel of it driving what little sense he had from his head. He was just mindlessly scratching at the bard’s chest, trying to get a hold on sweat damp skin, and he’d started moaning at some point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He recovered just enough to rub at the swollen nub of Jaskier’s clit, teeth still set firmly in the other man’s neck, and there was going to be an absolute nightmare of a mark; thinking about it spurred Lambert into rougher thrusts, cursing around his mouthful of flesh. Jaskier egged him on breathlessly; demanding he go faster, fuck him harder, and he did his best to comply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His orgasm took him by surprise, and he stuttered to a stop, gasping. But while he was absolutely a bastard he wasn't going to leave his partner unsatisfied, sliding down to desperately mouth at Jaskier, licking their mixed come up, tugging on his clit until his whole face was soaked, the bard's final orgasm squeezing globs his own seed into his beard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel cleared his throat from where he was sitting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He'd forgotten he was here, fucking shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lambert let himself fall onto his side, watching Jaskier shakily move until he was sat up, and his brother was staring at them, cock pushing his trousers up in an almost comical fashion. He snickered, which turned into a full belly laugh when Jaskier offered to take care of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, Eskel was going to have a hell of a time getting rid of him now. Lambert was planning to stick around, wondering how far he would go to get another taste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was perfectly pleased with the relationship he had with Eskel, who was attentive and caring and devoted, but whatever it was that had happened with Lambert had rippled things around. It made him a bit anxious, all things considered. He wondered when the Law of Surprise was going to stop biting him right on the arse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one thing to sleep with a stranger when your lover was far away from you, another thing entirely to sleep with your lover's brother while your lover was in the room with you. Eskel had seemed unbothered by the whole affair, but how much of that was his near supernatural calm demeanor, and how much of it was him accepting, or even possibly liking what had happened. When Lambert had recovered enough to leave Eskel had pinned him down, kissed him to within an inch of his life while grinding into his hip, shuddering into completion with a groan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel had explained to him early on that he didn't mind if Jaskier wandered, and then later again, when pressed, asking why would he care about some other person when he knew Jaskier would come back to him, always? And he would. All Eskel would have to do is crook his fingers his way and Jaskier would come running.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought didn't frighten him the way he thought it would. The way, with his history, it probably should. But he had wasted so much of his life not being brave enough to reach for what he wanted, and he was finished with that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were traveling together, now, breaking apart so that Jaskier could perform as needed, and Eskel could hunt his more dangerous beasties with minimal worry that his lover would fall victim to tooth or claw. He still saw enough to get plenty of material for any new songs, or poems, and Eskel was willing to share details with him, no matter how grim or gory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still had a mark. It rubbed against his collar so much he had had to slap some salve and a bandage on so that it would stop breaking open and ruining his shirts. He kept reaching up to touch it, unable to decide if he liked it or not. Normally he wouldn’t care if a lover left a mark or two, but Lambert had really chewed him up, scratches all over his chest and the slow healing teeth marks on his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel would touch the mark with a curious darkness in his eyes, smile gentle, and he would drop sweet kisses on every little scab until Jaskier was squirming for more. So he was confused. It didn’t help matters that Lambert refused to fuck off to wherever it was he usually went to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would be him and Eskel for a few weeks and then Lambert would pop up like a weed, grin nearly as sharp as his chin, and he and his brother would wrestle each other like the overgrown boys they were, and he would just… stay, for a while. He demanded to be the one to hunt for the group when he was with them, placing the dead rabbits or pheasants next to Jaskier with a pleased smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would pluck the birds but outright refused to be involved in any of that skinning or gutting business. Not that he couldn’t, of course, but why would he want to when there were two perfectly skilled men willing to do it for him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was another thing, the way the Witchers were acting. There hadn’t been so much as a lick of jealousy, but they did both seem determined to outdo one another when it came to fetching Jaskier things or giving him the best part of the stew, or, on one memorable occasion, the juiciest berries from the pointiest bush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert holding out a handful of sun ripened berries, bleeding from several small scratches on his hands and face, while his brother cursed and struggled to get out the bush without irreparably tearing his breeches was a sight that was going to be ingrained in his memory for the rest of his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The berries had been delicious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel was leaving. Jaskier held him closer than usual the night before his departure, asking him if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed to go, and for so long! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The time will pass quickly, and I’ll be back before you know it,” Eskel breathed in deeply, and Jaskier knew he was being scented, and a chilly nose pressed against his temple, followed by a kiss, gentle. “Besides, you’ll have Lambert here to keep you company.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, or Lambert will fuck off in protest,” Lambert peered over at the two of them snuggled up. “I need my damn beauty sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel just chuckled, his eyes dark with something Jaskier couldn’t quite name, but he could spot the mischief that sparked in them a mile away. “What exactly are you thinking, right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know,” Lies, and Eskel got a nip for impudence, right on his cheek, and he laughed, the bastard. “Stop your mauling me, wretch. We should rest. Don’t want to be tired for tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to miss you,” Jaskier could barely hear himself. “I always miss you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got another kiss for his confession. “And I, you, love. Sleep well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert seemed to make a point of getting his horse as close to Jaskier’s as possible, willing to chat about whatever Jaskier pleased, and it was wonderful to gossip with a person at least as spiteful as he was. If not more so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Witcher allowed himself to be bossed with minimal fuss, and when he did fuss he was leagues funnier about it than Geralt ever had been, content to whisper sarcastic remarks to Jaskier while perusing fabrics to give to the tailor Jaskier had in this particular town. Blatantly staring while at said tailor’s shop, seemingly heedless of the scandalized shop attendants, happily leering at Jaskier standing around half dressed in what would be his latest court attire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gave as good as he got, singing the bawdiest, dirtiest ballads in his repertoire while Lambert either sang along or howled with laughter, washed the grease from the Witcher’s hair in a river, and weren’t those curls a lovely surprise? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert submitted to being groomed with grace, winking and licking his lips, and he was a terrible flirt, and coming from a person like Jaskier that was really something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things came to a head a week after Eskel had abandoned him to his rotten, awful, gorgeous brother, Jaskier upping the ante on the personal grooming bent he’d been on. He had “accidentally” lost Lambert’s disgusting little jar of pomade, innocently blinking when asked where it was, clearly caught out on his lie, unwilling to give up the game. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd started stealing the other's shirts to wash with his own, working to get all the blood and mysterious stains out. And now this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I insist, sweet, really, I don’t think any of you Witchers can actually take proper care of yourselves,” Jaskier waved his straight blade in a vague pattern. "I'll admit, a life on the road isn't conducive for good grooming habits, but really. You all look a bit ragged around the edges, and you can't blame </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of that on rough living. Now sit still, don't want to nick you!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert tilted his head back, eyes closed. "Sorry, gorgeous, must've missed the lessons on dressing like a moron. Too busy learning how to gut a man and sew myself up. I'll send myself back for remedial classes straight away." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier huffed as he carefully shaved the wild edges of Lambert's beard into something respectable. The Witcher smirked at his lack of response, but let himself be taken care of, what a lamb. And that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny, wasn’t it? He would have to save that for later, when he didn't have a wickedly sharp blade in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was done with the shave soon enough, back protesting the angle he'd been bent in, but he had a surprise in store for his irascible Witcher, and he was eager to try it out. He didn't bother with more than a few drops; with this oil a little went a long way, and he spent nearly as long gently massaging it into Lambert's neck and beard as he did cleaning the mess up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert had opened his eyes when Jaskier wasn't paying attention, and there was desire in them, hot and dark, and Jaskier, who was never any good at resisting temptation, leaned down the rest of the way for a kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The oil was unscented, for sensitive Witcher noses, but it had done its job admirably; Lambert’s beard was softer than it had ever been, pleasant against his mouth. He broke away long enough so they could pull their shirts off, lunging for Lambert right away; he was caught in strong hands and dragged to the nearest bedroll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trousers were removed with haste, and Jaskier was feeling unusually impatient, shoving Lambert down underneath him, doing his level best to suck the man's soul out of his mouth, grinding his clit into a jutting hip. A little flutter of release, not a proper climax at all, had him groaning in frustration and sliding back and up, Lambert's prick in him all at once, hot and hard and so damn wonderful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It curved to the side just a bit, and snugged it's way to the back of him without a problem, fat enough for a small burn of stretch, but Jaskier could rub his clit on the pelvis below with relative ease. He did just that, mindlessly swiveling his hips, working himself up into an actual orgasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert's hands gripped his hips on the verge of too tight, delicious pricks of pain, and he snapped up in a short, sharp thrust, but that wasn't what Jaskier wanted, just at the moment, and he clamped his hand around the Witcher’s mouth, snarled, "Be a good boy, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't move</span>
  </em>
  <span> until I say to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Witcher went wide eyed and still underneath him, hands still in their bruising grip, and now, Jaskier would normally talk about this sort of thing before the sex started, or even stop to make sure everything was alright, but he got the feeling that Lambert would require careful coaxing in order to speak about this, and continued on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You do </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a good boy, don't you? For me?" Jaskier shuddered when he came, eyelids heavy, hips steadily increasing in speed, and Lambert whined from behind his makeshift gag, eyes desperate, fingers clawing into his skin, but it only made things sharper and sweeter. "You want to fill me up, maybe put a baby in me? Do you want that, sweetheart? Would you like to be my good boy?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shaky nod, yellow eyes bright with a sheen of tears, oh, his poor boy was clearly in some kind of way, and he relented, hand slipping away so he could brace himself against the dirt. "Then fuck me, dear."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert threw his head back and did his very very best, groaning and heaving, eyes screwed shut, curls askew on the sorry excuse for a pillow, doing such a wonderful job that Jaskier's toes started to tingle like they were falling asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He really did have the best luck, didn't he? Jaskier gasped his way through yet another orgasm, and he could feel Lambert coming inside, but the Witcher just kept going, still hard, damn that stamina, and Jaskier soon found himself rolled over into the dirt with teeth in his neck, on his chest, fingernails biting into him, tears swimming in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>May have bitten off more than I can chew,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, toes curling up, legs locked around Lambert's torso. Oh, well. There were worse ways to piss away an afternoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He and Lambert spent most of the week violently fucking each other bloody, but Jaskier had to beg off at some point, due to chafing and general soreness, plugged up and feeling heavy with it. He was nearly asleep when he heard boots crunching on leaves and twigs, but Lambert hadn't so much as twitched, which meant that Eskel had returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I see you two had your fun," Eskel kissed Jaskier gently, crouched down beside them, mindful of his beard burn, lovely man. He tossed his bedroll next to theirs, got as undressed as he could probably justify with Lambert snoring loudly and obviously into the nape of Jaskier’s neck, naked as a babe and curled around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We did indeed," Jaskier shifted, plug pressing coolly against him, not quite comfortable. "I'm so glad you're back, my darling. Your brother tried to fuck me into an early grave and exhausted himself in the process. Who would protect me if not for you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eskel chuckled, arm tucked under his face. "He'd have been up in a moment had it been anyone but me walking nearby. I got you a gift, but it'll have to wait til morning. Sleep. Keep my idiot brother company in his dreams."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So long as you're there, too." Jaskier let himself be kissed one last time before he closed his eyes, slumber nipping at his heels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*--*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Eskel presented Jaskier with an outrageously bejeweled, but nonetheless </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely serviceable,</span>
  </em>
  <span> dagger over their simple breakfast, to replace the old one he kept in his boot, Lambert made a noise like a squashed cat and stomped off, muttering about overachieving shit heads, and how he wasn't going to take this lying down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother pressing when Eskel just winked at him in return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Witchers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>honestly.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you'd like, follow me on twitter @gotfanfiction. I have a lot of stuff for you to look at there ;]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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